Wednesday, 8 June 2011

Often, to pass the idle hours of the voyage,Sailors will capture that great slow follower Of their gliding passage over the bitter depths,Proudest of sea birds, the albatross.

King of the azure the sailors call it, with a wink -- For once the great ungainly wings are stretched Out and trailing across the briny planks Like abandoned oars, this vast being's suddenly

Helpless, maladroit and embarrassed, Vaguely ridiculous. A sailor pokes its beak with a pipe, Another acts out the fallen bird's distress, Dragging a theatrical game leg across the deck.

The poet is very much like this Prince of the Clouds, Floating above stormy waters, mocking the distant marksman; But once brought down, a laughable figure, stranded, Broken wings swim-flipper-slapping the wormy wood.

It is amazing what the albatross has endured in the name of the art of humans, but then they are impressive creatures. It was great to rediscover this here in a BTP rendering. I keep Trans/Versions on my night table both for enjoyment and because it reminds me about some things I think are important about art and what artists do. And the way things are going in the "real world", I need that reminding more than ever.